Christmas Vacation
by Maleontaros
Summary: Four prisoners are given the chance to obtain both their freedom and two million dollars in cash if they can survive two weeks in Silent Hill.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: **Hey, everyone! So, a reader caught a mistake I made, and I simply don't have the heart to change it. In the prologue, it says "Azkaban", and I meant "Alcatraz". It's just too funny for me to change! Thanks, Lady Leita, for catching this mistake! If anyone sees any mistakes in the future, please inform me so that I may either change it, or inform everyone so that we can laugh about it.

"Let's start at the beginning. Don't you find that an appropriate place?" The files were placed on Mister Troworth's desk, landing in a neat, yet surprisingly packed pile on his desk. "Like how they all got in this situation to begin with."

"They got in this situation because I made a deal with the governor," said Mister Troworth. He opened up the first file and looked at the picture. It was of a girl that had the potential to be very beautiful, but the years of substance abuse had taken their toll on her appearance. She was so young, too. What a shame. What a waste.

"I mean the very beginning. What acts they did to land them in prison in the first place," Joshua Starr replied. He sat down across from Mister Troworth. "That girl right there, Penelope Bynes, was a druggie."

"I can tell."

"But that's not all she did. She was also a gang-banger. She killed a few people and landed in the slammer because she felt like she needed to be punished."

Mister Troworth smiled. Punishment was _that _creature's specialty.

"She's twenty-three years old. A shame, someone so young tossed her life away like that."

"Pity," replied Mister Troworth. He placed the file to the side and picked up the next one. A man, quite a bit older than himself, and quite angry looking.

"That's Arnold Loinski. He's a rapist. A pedophile, actually. Tried to escape three times. They threatened to reopen Azkaban, just for him, and he finally settled down."

The next file was of a young boy, who appeared more frightened than anything else.

"Miles Washington. Eighteen years old since last week. Came from a rich family and got into a heated argument with one of his best friends. Killed him."

The next file showed the picture of a girl with a large, toothy grin and eyes that were practically dead. Mister Troworth ran his finger over the girl's photo.

"You … You already know her. Your daughter, Sally Troworth. Twenty-nine years old. Sentenced to life in prison for a mass homicide." Joshua swallowed. "Mister Troworth, are you sure you want to go through with this plan? All the money in the world couldn't keep these guys from the streets."

"I know that."

"So then why do you do it?"

Mister Troworth closed all the files and stacked them neatly on his desk, arranging them according to age. He looked back at Joshua, his blue eyes hard and cold. "It's a game, Joshua. A game of survival. If they can last two weeks in Hell, then they win two million dollars." Joshua's face paled.

"It's worse than Hell, Mister Troworth," he said, his voice catching somewhere in his throat. "It's Silent Hill."


	2. Chapter One

Two doors slammed. Four people shouldered backpacks. Four cell phones buzzed, just to make sure that they were in working order. One driver leaned his head out the window, and he offered only one explanation. "I can't go any further than this. Silent Hill's not known for letting those who wander in back out. I'll see you lot. Maybe. Not likely. But maybe." And with a single, frightening laugh, he drove off. One sign sat to the side of the road, overgrown with a countless number of weeds, but the four people were willing to make out the five words: "One mile to Silent Hill". They made their way down that one mile. Not one word was spoken.

When they arrived, they were greeted with what they expected. More silence and more fog. Finally, someone spoke up. "This shit's going to get real old, real fast." Everyone looked at her. She had introduced herself as Penelope when they were in the car. The drug addict and gang banger. She was looking to reform, fortunately. But she didn't want to do it in prison.

"It was why I got my ass up and accepted this opportunity," she had told them. A stupid mistake made by a potentially intelligent woman.

She stepped further into the town, her dark brown eyes scanning the area. When her black hair fell in her face, she casually pushed it to the side. As if she wasn't in the least bit disturbed. As if this wasn't the most frightening experience she's had to deal with. Everyone else felt the same way. Except for, perhaps, the boy. He was shaking so hard, he almost looked like he was going to set the Richter scale off. But he followed everyone else nonetheless. So far, nothing was happening. Maybe all the rumors were just that: Rumors. Maybe his life wasn't in danger after all.

Maybe.

Not likely.

But maybe.

He felt a shudder try to creep its way up his spine, and he violently shook it off. Next to him, an older man slapped his shoulder. "Relax, kiddo," he said. "Miles, ain't it?" Quickly, Miles attempted to push the man's hand off his shoulder. He had heard about this man. A rapist, and a pedophile. Very far from the type of people Miles was used to associating with. In fact, they all were.

"Yeah," he said quietly.

"Well, Miles, you know what your name means?" asked Arnold. Miles shook his head. "It means soldier. So do yourself a favor, and start acting like one." The man pushed his hands into his pockets, and he looked up at the ashy sky. "Fuck. The weather here always like this?" he asked to no one in particular. The answer, however, came anyway. Miles and the man both turned around to see their final member. Sally Troworth. She cleared her throat and stepped forward, wrapping her arm around the man's waist.

"Arnold, dear, don't be silly. You knew what would be happening the moment you signed the contract." She grinned. "Give me a smooch." Arnold frowned and pushed the girl away. "What's wrong? Mister Rapey Pooh doesn't want a consenting adult?" She laughed. Arnold continued to walk, acting as if he didn't hear her. Perhaps he was used to the taunts. Used to the games others played with him. Trying to get him angry, trying to make him hurt someone. All he needed was one more slipup, and it would be the chair. Sally continued skipping after him, singing a children's song. Penelope scoffed.

"I hope that bitch goes first," she said to Miles. He didn't reply. "What's wrong? You shy or something?"

"Just scared," Miles replied. "Nervous, I mean. I'm just nervous." Penelope shrugged one shoulder nonchalantly.

"If you get scared, kid, you'll die real fast. You have to keep a clear head. Make sure you know what you're doing when you need to." She looked down at him, her too-pale skin seeming just the same color as the ash that fell around them. "That's the sort of stuff you learn on the streets." She examined him for a moment, her dark eyes taking in his darker complexion. His dark skin, his brown eyes, his long hair neatly parted into several braids down his head, and his barely overgrown fingernails. He hadn't been in prison for long, she knew that much. He was still sane. He was still normal-looking. He hadn't been driven to the point of being ugly, like the rest of them had. "You weren't raised on the streets though," she guessed. Miles shook his head. "That makes you different than the rest of us, then. An outsider."

"Outsiders won't work in here." Sally had come back, grinning wickedly from ear to ear. Far ahead of them, Arnold was walking, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. "We have to stick together. Don't listen to her, Arnold. She wants you to get away from the group. To feel isolated. Just so she can find you at your weakest, kill you, and make sure she gets to win this little game."

"Fuck off," Penelope replied. Sally hummed and tapped her chin, falling into her own world of imagination. She looked content with whatever she was thinking about, but Miles didn't care to figure out what it was. "Goddamn, that bitch is crazy," Sally mumbled. "Bat shit insane crazy. I don't trust her."

"I don't trust any of you," Miles replied.

"Good attitude to have," Penelope replied. And that was the last thing she said to him.

The four walked in silence from then on. They had no specific directions from Mister Troworth. They had no idea what they were supposed to do. They were given nothing but clothes, food, water, flashlights, cell phones, and the reminder to "stay alive". They weren't told that they had to stick together, but they chose to do so. It made them comfortable, but how long that comfort would last, none of them knew. They weren't told where to go, how to get there, or even told what to expect from their surroundings – other than how they might "change". But they already knew all about that. There were rumors about Silent Hill. The website said it all. Its history. The newest updates were twenty years old, written in 2014, right before it became a ghost town – again. How often that happened, no one bothered to keep track of. It seemed like it went from a successful town to a ghost town in just days, depending on what sort of freaky shit went down.

"Hey, hey, we aren't going in there, are we?" Miles asked. Arnold frowned and looked back at him. They were standing in front of a large, intimidating-looking church. Miles's brow furrowed. "In the movies, stuff always happens in the church. We won't be safer in there than we are out here."

"Exactly," Arnold said, tilting his head to the side. "So what's the difference?" Miles couldn't respond to that. So the four of them decided that, really, there was no difference. So why shouldn't they give the church a try, right? When they entered, they saw that there was no electricity. "Two flashlights only. We want to conserve as much battery power as we possibly can." Penelope and Arnold were the ones to turn the flashlights on. They walked in further, waiting, their footsteps echoing. Arnold finally stopped, and he looked at the floor in front of the first pew on the left side. He swept the dust and dirt away with his foot to reveal a red picture. "What the fuck is this?"

"Looks like a triangle," Miles replied.

"No shit, Sherlock," Arnold replied. He knelt down, his flashlight focusing on the picture. He wiped away more dirt beneath the picture. Words began to form, faded and barely even there. "Fuck, I can't read this," he said.

"I can," Sally replied. She sat down next to the picture and words, and she began drawing in the dirt by her legs. After a moment of reading, she said, "It says, 'Repent'."

Arnold, Penelope, and Miles studied the drawing for a bit longer. "I don't see it," Penelope said. "Doesn't look anything like 'Repent'. Where the fuck did you get that from?"

"It's Latin," Sally informed Penelope, her grin never fading from her face. She pointed to the patterns she made in the dirt. "See? Repent. Look. I can make it too. Hey! You're not looking!" Sally's thin lips formed a pout as Penelope turned away, her back to the group. Her flashlight was flickering, and she tried to hit it against the palm of her hand to get it going back on. Sally, suddenly, fell silent. Her eyes glazed over, and she stared at Penelope with some sort of strange fixation. "Repent," Sally breathed. Miles looked at her, his brown eyes narrowing with confusion. But she didn't seem to notice him. Arnold's flashlight started to flicker, as well.

"Fuck," Arnold whispered. "We only had them on for, what, five minutes? These batteries are new. This shit shouldn't happen." Then he fell silent. And everyone became still. And they all heard it at once. The static. Miles's shaking hand reached into his pocket. He pulled out his phone, opened it up, and looked at the screen. It went on and off.

And the last thing he heard before it went off completely was, "Repent!"

Suddenly, he was alone. Alone, afraid, and watching as things around him started to melt away. The world around him became disgusting, rusted, bloody, and dead. His breath fogged in front of him. The doors to the church opened, slowly, and he forced himself to look. Forced himself to watch as something seemed to emerge from the shadows just before the door. Miles didn't stick around to see what it was, though. He turned and ran, hand clutching tightly to his phone. He opened up the door that led to the church kitchen, not stopping to examine the area. He only ran. And ran. And ran. He stumbled over pots and pans. And he ran. His breath was far behind him, probably back with that thing in the shadows. But he didn't care. He could catch it later, when it was safe to be still. When it was safe to stop running.

He found another door, opened it, and rushed to the other side. He emerged in the outside world, and he almost breathed a sigh of relief. Things were different again. Normal. Save for the dark green eyes that met his. An old woman stood before him, her hands over her stomach. She smiled sickeningly at him. "The first time is always the most shocking," she rasped. "And it's always the most lenient. Next time, you won't be so lucky." She lifted her hands from her stomach, and Miles had just enough time to see blood on them before she pressed her palms against his face. "He will find you, and he will get you." She fell limp, then, falling to the ground at Miles's feet, leaving blood on his clothes and shoes. He gasped for breath, stepping away from her, his brain reeling. He was still trying to process what was going on, still trying to figure out what to do.

"Hey, kid!"

Miles whirled around and spotted Penelope. Her eyes were streaked with tears, and her right arm was bleeding. "Kid, where the fuck is everyone else?" She hissed in pain. "Fuck, we have to find them. I'm hurt bad. Bad. Come on. Let's go. If I collapse, don't leave me, okay?" Miles couldn't speak. He could only nod. As they walked, he was convinced that it was pure adrenaline that kept him going. He was in such shock, he didn't think that he even blinked. They had to stop and rest for a while, due to Penelope's decreasing strength. They sat down on a bench, and they were silent long enough for Miles to gather his thoughts and figure out what was going on. He ran his smooth hands over his face and head. "What the fuck just happened?" asked Penelope, looking at him. He shrugged, shook his head, and looked at the world around him, as if expecting it to change again.

"Silent Hill happened," he said. Penelope didn't respond immediately. She scoffed and leaned her back against the bench.

"Some fucker came after me," she said at last. Her voice was shaking. "Big guy. Real tall. And lots of muscles." Her lower lip trembled. "Fuck. Fuck."

"What happened?" Miles asked, unable to stop himself. Penelope shook her head and held her hands over her face. The fact that they were bloodied didn't bother her in the least bit.

"I don't want to talk about it," she sobbed. Miles nodded, as if she could see it between his fingers. After a few moments, she calmed down, and she spoke from behind her palms again. It was as if she was ashamed to speak to him directly, and she needed something in front of her face. In front of her eyes. "He wanted to kill me," she said. "I could feel it. Like that was all he wanted. Like it was what he lived for, or some creepy shit like that. And … And he had this … This … [i]sword[/i]. I guess that's what it was. But it was huge." She let her hands drop from her face. "But that wasn't the worst part." Miles stared at her, his lips parted. He was both frightened and engrossed in what she was saying. She sighed and chuckled. "I'm just overreacting." Miles shook his head.

"No, no. You aren't. You're … You're reacting the same way I would."

"Like a little bitch. I know." Miles tried to remain unhurt by her comment, but it was hard. He wasn't as weak as she thought. He had gotten out of the situation unharmed, and she was injured .That counted for something, right? "Sorry. I'm just scared out of my mind, is all. I just hate masks. I hate them." Miles frowned.

"What do you mean? What about masks? What …?" He waited for her to explain why, of all things, she would mention masks. She licked her lips and nervously gave him an answer.

"I couldn't see his face," she whispered. "A huge pyramid or … something was covering his head." She looked at Miles, trying to figure out what he was thinking by his expression. He must have appeared terrified to the point of eliciting some amount of pity from her. She sighed and stood up. "Come on," she said quietly. "Let's go find the rapist and schizo."


End file.
